Chain Smoking
by Frank-da-rabbit
Summary: Smoking kills, you know." "Since when do you, Jayson Hogart, care what others do to their lungs." "I don't care what others do. Just you." JayEmma [standalone]


**This idea came from watching my best friend smoke. She is an avid chain smoker, so what can I say? I don't really know how it evolved into the finished product before you, it just kind of, well, did. This is slightly AU and Jay is a tad bit OOC (okay, really OOC.) Just pretend everything after Secrets part two never happened and that Jay and Emma form a relationship after all is said and done. Okay? Okay.**

Disclaimer: I don't own Jay, Emma, DCS, or even the brand-name Cloves. Although I do own a few packs and a pink lighter! Huzzah! cough SMOKING IS BAD cough

Have at.  


**_Frank-da-rabbit _**

**Chain Smoking Chaos**

"Smoking kills, you know," a voice calls from the darkness. A tiny blonde sitting on a wooden bench looks up at the speaking shadow, and upon seeing who it is, turns quietly back to her cigarette. Instead of answering right away, she focuses intently on the glowing red stick before her, blinking apathetically as gray smoke curls away from her small, quivering hand.

Shaking her head, the blonde brings the cigarette unsteadily up to her mouth and takes a short drag. "Since when do you," she exhales, "Jayson Hogart, Klepto King of Degrassi," another drag, "care what others do to their lungs?"

_Exhale_.

"I don't care what others do," he defends, sitting beside her on the cold bench.

"Just you," he finishes sincerely, his gentle side slipping out naturally. Her eyes catch his and, taking another long drag, she smiles lopsidedly. He reaches his hand out in a desperate need and retracts it after attaining the cancer stick between his nicotine-stained fingers.

"Hypocrite," she whispers, slowly releasing a smoke-filled breath. He leans back and takes a long draw off the white, burning cigarette in his hands, letting the smoke fill his lungs. He smiles. _Cloves._ He should have known. Only the best and most expensive for her. He puffs it out, leaving a dull, but delicious, burning sensation at the back of his throat.

"You know it," he whispers back, letting the excess ash fall to the ground between them. They stare silently as the bright red fades quickly to a bleak gray.

Drawing her knees to her chest, she takes out another cigarette and lights it greedily. Her shaking hand calms a bit as she puffs away another few seconds of her life. She doesn't care if kills her. She stopped caring along time ago.

"You okay?" He asks, watching as she sucks avidly, releasing tiny clouds of gray every few moments.

"Yeah. Fine," she replies automatically. He sighs irritably and, taking another hit, looks at her through the foggy wall of smoke slowly building in front of him.

"Yeah. Whatever,"

**_Inhale._**

"Tell me the truth," he finishes.

_**Exhale.**_

"It's gone, you know," she says after a long pause, staring at the small pile of ash dispersing as the wind picks up and blows it into the night. Her hand moves quickly and expertly to her anxiously waiting mouth.

_Inhale. _

Gray clouds his vision again.

_Exhale._

"I know," he answers almost inaudibly. She doesn't have to say anymore for him to know that she's talking about the disease. The disease he gave her that killed her innocence. That killed everything between them. And the one that, ironically, revived their broken relationship. Outcasts have a way of banding together once thrown from the social ring of Degrassi Community School. She sighs as she takes one final drag on her current cigarette, letting the smoke linger a few seconds longer than necessary before allowing it to seep from between her cracked lips.

He stares at her, and for the first time, takes in her disheveled appearance. Her too-big sweats are rolled sloppily a few times around her waist and yet still manage to bunch up haphazardly around her thin ankles. Her (well, his) large hoodie hides her tiny frame from the unforgiving chills of the night, making her seem uncharacteristically weak and frail. Her hair is what worries him the most, though. Instead of it's usual clean perfection, never one hair out of place, it's has been thrown carelessly into a rather untidy ponytail. Loose strands of hair frame her pale face, and it seems to have a few days worth of dirt meshed into the honey blonde.

The shaky hands holding tightly to a pink lighter and a newly lit cigarette only seem to add to her impassive demeanor. _She doesn't care anymore._ An epiphany he seems to finally make tonight. He's seen her many times like this over the past several weeks and he only just now realizes how broken she is. How stupid can he be?

"I'm tired," she confides, almost seemingly, to her Clove. Laying her head down on his shoulder, she throws down her latest conquest and, once again, reaches for the white, brand-named pack. He grabs her hand softly and holds it tightly, begging silently for her to slow down. Giving in rather easily, she lays her hand gently onto his lap and closes her eyes.

"You should sleep," he whispers into her hair. _She smells faintly like peaches,_ he notices for the first time. _Peaches and dirt._ She nods slightly before stretching out on the bench and placing her head lightly into his lap.

"Jay," she whispers, "promise me something."

"Sure," he replies, running his yellowed fingers through her greasy hair.

"I know I'm a mess, and I know I'm losing it. Just, don't let me lose it alone, please. I couldn't handle it alone. I don't want to be alone when I fall…" she drifts into, hopefully, a dreamless sleep; her last thought dying as sleep claims her. He looks down at the mess of a girl and can't help but let a modest sigh slip from his lips. He can't believe that this is happening. He can't believe that she is nearing a slow and deadly downfall and he, of all people, is the one to witness it. He just hopes that when it happens, he can stick to his unanswered promise, and catch her.

An hour passes by quickly. An hour of silence and hair stroking and dreamless slumber and cold wind. One single hour passes before she starts awake with a whimper. He knows what happened to wake her up. He knows what she saw in the darkness of her mind. He knows, but he doesn't question it. He can't bare to see her in so much pain. She sits back up, pulling her knees to her chest, while her hand shoots automatically toward the pack of Cloves and she habitually lights another cigarette.

_Inhale. _

He stares at her, wanting nothing more than to snatch the cigarette from her tiny fingers and smash it to the ground.

_Exhale. _

He sighs, staring out at the clouds emitting from her open mouth. Watching as it rises higher and higher, slowly fading into the black sky and disappearing forever into obscurity.

And suddenly he realizes it. Sitting next to this chaotic, chain-smoking girl on a cold wooden bench in the middle of a January night, he realizes it. Staring at her shaking hands, unkempt appearance, and ever-present Clove cigarette, he finally realizes it.

_Inhale._

She isn't falling. Not at all.

_Exhale._

No, she had fallen long ago. Before the promise, the disease, and the smoking. Before the sleepless nights, the nightmares of death, and even, him. With another sudden realization, his eyes filled with unwavering guilt. She had fallen long ago and he didn't even try to catch her. He'd unknowingly let her down before he'd even knew her.

_Inhale._

He'd broken his promise long before he had the chance to make it.

_Exhale._

**Fin**

A/N: and that's it. Hope you liked. Well, review and such, cause I'd like to know if I can improve in some areas or if I'm just perfect (j/k, I know I'm not!) Really though, I'd love to know what you thought.


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